


The Noblest Pleasure

by Rinascimento



Series: A Life Well Used [1]
Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, M/M, Multi, Renaissance Era, Templar!Leonardo, uhh, what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinascimento/pseuds/Rinascimento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The noblest pleasure is the joy of Understanding." - Leonardo da Vinci</p>
<p>The life of Leonardo da Vinci of the Knights Templar.  [tags will be updated as I go along]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Noblest Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Lion](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33854) by manic_intent. 



> What happened was I wanted to do an Assassin's Creed AU, Templar!Leonardo-centric. Chapter 1 presents the story of Leonardo da Vinci, born and raised in a family of Templars.
> 
> Enjoy!

  **Birthright**

==

.1452.

On the fifteenth of April, the cool night air stirred with the shrieks of an infant. The midwives cleaned the child who could only be consoled by his mother's embrace. Caterina beheld her son, tears in her eyes. She smiled even as he lips quivered and laughter mingled with shaky sobs fell from her lips. Her usually full curls fell flat and stuck to her face from the sweat of labor. It was a long night. She only relaxed in the bed when she felt it was finally over. She closed her eyes.

When the door opened and the midwives hushed, Caterina did not stir except to hold the baby closer to her chest.

\---

The Da Vinci family was a family of precedents. There was tradition; there was order. Piero da Vinci was a notary among a line of notaries since his great-great-grandfather. A strong family with strong traditional values, Da Vinci were men of honor and justice, pledging themselves to the Order at relatively young ages. They were discreet. They were God fearing.

Ser Piero, a humble man, did not mind his stature in the Order. He was of a low but honorable rank. He served his Brothers well; he was even reserved the honor of becoming the notary of a great ally (and greater foe), the Medici family. From Piero's position, close tabs were kept on the ever growing political family.

He showed much promise in work but ultimately succumbed to fleshly desire. Piero soon found himself in love with a young peasant woman with wiry golden curls, full lips, and light eyes. She had uncomely freckles but, after a few nights of passion, he came to adore them. Her tenacity was compelling; her presence was alluring. How dedicated he felt to her and, for a time, she to him. They spent days together, nights together; he took great care and went to great lengths to keep this pearl of a secret.

But caution and discretion did little. Caterina the peasant woman was soon with child. The humiliation within the Da Vinci family and the Order was catastrophic. Piero was devastated and shamed. And though his love for Caterina was strong, his ties to familial duty was stronger. Yet, he would not abandon his love: He, with the help of his father Antonio, made arrangements for the woman to be wed to a man named Acattabriga di Luca who would have her despite her errors and her poverty.

Furious, helpless, crushed, Caterina swore to herself that she would have nothing to do with Piero again.

"Be reasonable," Piero implored her once. "With a child and without a husband, your reputation will be tarnished! Life will be hard for you."

"What do you know of a hard life, _Ser Piero da Vinci_?" She gritted back at him cruelly. "I will _not_ let you take away my dignity and choice when you've already taken my pride!" She did not want to hear his reasons. And he listened sorrowfully to her warranted concerns and words of hatred. And despite how much it pained him and how he wished it wouldn't be so, he made arrangements to send his love into the arms of another for, what he felt, her protection. She and the child would be taken care of, he assured himself. He himself would be quickly wed to Albiera Amadori, a young lady of sixteen, of good reputation and a modest wealth. All would be well and he would never again face the mistakes he had made.

Or so he had hoped. Caterina's would-be husband was difficult and jealous. He hated the thought of raising a child that was not his and Piero initially refused to care for his own child as it would be unseemly. He hoped it would resolve itself--after all, they had many months to wait.

But as time went on, it came about that his own wife was barren; Piero had little choice. So again, to save his love a terrible life of ruined repute, Piero da Vinci made a dreadful decision. He would take the child in his home and raise him or her with his new wife. Caterina would not stand for it. But the matter was out of her hands; it was to be done.

On the fifteenth of April, the cool night air stirred with the shrieks of a broken woman.

And after the documents were written by his father and after his wife put the child to sleep in their new home, Piero sat away in his private room in silence. Caterina's shrieks and wails of protest still resounded in his ears and the weight of his actions weighed heavily on his heart.

==

.1461.

As an illegitimate child, Leonardo da Vinci had no precedents set for him. He had no family obligation. He had no duties and no traditions. If this was supposed to comfort the child, he supposed it at least made him experience some freedom. The only obligation he had was his chores and his daily writing lessons with a local priest. So it was easy for him to wander the Tuscan countryside. The green rolling hills called to him and he often found himself chasing butterflies farther away from his family in Vinci.

He preferred it. In the countryside, he could not disappoint the birds in the trees nor could he shame the grasshoppers leaping in tall grass. In nature, he could use his "Devil hand" and nothing would cease; he could sing and dance and there would be no other eyes but those of God and His creatures to watch him

But days spent in wonder were like dreams, short lived and rare. Nonno Antonio was strict with him and the moment Leonardo came home, there were chores to be done. He was constantly corrected. Yes, he was illegitimate, but he would present himself as a man of repute whether or not he will be. At a young age, Leonardo learned of his illegitimacy; he knew it well. And though he enjoyed the freedom of responsibilities, he yearned for acceptance from his family. He ached for the affection they showed each other and he spent his life in that house trying to earn that love.

With a few, he did not have to earn it. His uncle Francesco, Antonio's younger son, loved him from the moment he saw him. Zio Ciccio, as Leonardo affectionately called him, skipped tradition despite his father's protests. He became a farmer and it was through him that Leonardo learned to see the world. He helped his Zio tend to their few animals and their gardens. In return, his uncle taught him many things that he knew; he showed him which herbs in the garden would help in home remedies. He knew the answer to any question Leonardo could think of and he could say it in a way that made Leonardo no longer feel like a child. They played puzzles and riddles when the lessons and chores were done for the day. It made Leonardo prone to questions and challenges; it made him smile and laugh more often. Once, Francesco cut open a grasshopper "to see how God makes him live", he had said with a curious smile.

Leonardo kept his observations in a journal that Nonno Antonio gave to him to practice writing. In it, the boy drew and wrote down new things he had learned from his uncle and from his world. He drew the countryside and its hills and animals and waterfalls.

On certain dreadful nights, his grandfather would catch him drawing in the notebook. Despite his best efforts to hide, his grandfather would always catch him. As punishment, Leonardo would receive lashings on his left hand ten times with a thin stick and he himself would have to count each strike.

"We do _not_ use _that_ hand in this house, Leonardo," his grandfather would say with a deep frown and pinched brows. "How many times must I teach you this lesson? Am I to believe that your Sin has made you stupid and that the Devil has such a strong grasp on you, child? _Will you never learn_?"

Leonardo never looked away from his reddened hand, his eyes stinging. He did his best to control his shaking. "I'm sorry, Nonno."

His Nonno would eventually let him go but not without a reminder that, despite his wonder and his thirst for knowledge, mistakes like him would earn nothing.

\---

On holidays, his small home in Vinci always warmed with the arrival of his parents. Piero and his wife Albiera lived in the neighboring city of Florence, about a day's walking distance. Their visits were seldom but whenever they sent word of their coming, Leonardo would wait by the window in anticipation. When the doors to his home opened and familiar voices announced their arrival, Leonardo all but sprinted to the main room, ignoring the nagging of his disapproving grandmother. He would have jumped into Albiera's arms if he could. He embraced her with all the strength a child could muster and buried his face into her chest, inhaling. She always smelled of roses. And though he wished he could stay there longer, he pulled away quickly so he could stand tall for his father.

Piero brought in their bags behind them. Creases between his brows and at the corners of his mouth made the man appear much older and much angrier. It seemed to Leonardo that his face was always set in an expression of disappointment and, though he wanted to be brave and face his father's piercing eyes, he never could keep his gaze. "Welcome home, father." Leonardo said respectfully. He earned a simple nod in greeting from Piero coupled with silence. Leonardo sighed with relief.

Dinner was ready and announced and after happy welcomes and a warmth that always seemed to radiate from them all, they sat to eat. Leonardo had set the table and he was helping his grandmother serve the food--men first, as always--before they sat down themselves. Leonardo settled between his uncle and his stepmother, a comfortable space. They said grace and he, eager to make an impression since the last time his father came to see them, ate with manners and sat up straight and quietly.

" _Leonardo_ ," his grandfather frowned at him. "Your _hand_. How many times must that be said?"

Already he had made a mistake and his father had only just arrived. His face burned with shame as he tucked his left hand under his thigh. He felt his stepmother's reassuring touch on his arm but it did little to help his embarrassment. The silence that followed was maddening but Zio Ciccio was quick to lighten the mood with eager questions and charm. The warmth returned. Again, relief washed over the child.

After dinner, the women were dismissed. Whenever his father returned, the men always stayed at the table to drink tea and speak of "adult affairs, not for children". He never understood what they spoke about but he understood why he was not welcome. As a child, he was not yet ready to be included. As a bastard, he never would be.

And so, he took his leave with his stepmother, another whose love he did not have to earn. A woman of grace and eloquence, he found comfort in her company. She told him stories as she played with his curls. She was so gentle and he loved her for it.

He laid his head in her lap and looked up at her. She smiled as she hummed him a lullaby but she didn't say a word. She didn't need to and she never had to. He was always content in her presence.  "How long will you stay this time, mama?" He asked, hopeful.

"Oh, I see," she said with a playful smile. "You already want me gone, is that it?"

"No!" Leonardo sat up quickly, the boom from his outburst almost echoing.  Albiera gasped with a start and Leonardo covered his mouth with a little intake of breath.  They froze.  He looked to his mother then, both stiff and waiting for the irritated calls for silence from the next room. When none came and they seemed to be safe, Albiera was the first to burst into giggles and Leonardo grinned, following suit.

After whispers and laughter shared with his stepmother, Leonardo was soon sent to bed. Albiera tucked him in herself and kissed his forehead. Before she left, he whispered, "Leave the candle burning, mama? Please?" His pout must have worked for Albiera sighed in mock defeat and bid him goodnight. Leonardo waited for the sound of her footsteps to recede into silence before he threw the covers off of himself.

His notebook in one hand and a pencil in another, the boy crept silently out of his room and toward the kitchen. He had been caught before, by his father, when he was much younger and the punishment was severe.  Over the months, he learned how to move unseen; over the years, he learned to move unheard.  Once he found his niche, he was eager to listen in on the conversation and write down the words and prhases he could not understand.  Talk of apples and doctors and the city of Florence might have lulled any other child to a quick slumber but Leonardo absorbed it all.

That night, when the boy felt he successfully returned to his bed and was near asleep, he thought he felt a presence in his room.  Despite thinking it to be nothing, he peeked his eyes open and looked around the dully lit room. From behind him, Francesco knocked quietly on the headboard of his bed and whispered, "Always the curious one, aren't you, _nipote_? And to think, I was beginning to think you weren't going to join us this night!"

Leonardo nearly jumped out of his skin, much to the amusement of his uncle.  His words made Leonardo blanch and his stomach instantly tightened with trepidation.  "Zio! I-I didn't mean to--"

"Relax, relax," The older man grinned and sat at the edge of his bed.  "But hush--nonno and papa could be listening."  With the boy's quick and shakey nod of agreement, Francesco continued, "You have improved, nipote.  I almost didn't hear you this time.  The last few times, ah.  And no, don't worry--nonno and papa haven't the faintest idea."

Still, fear gripped at Leonardo.  Surely he would receive lashings or some other form of terrible punishment for this; the punishment the last time _was_ harsh and impressionable.  But Francesco only watched his nephew curiously from his bedside and his calmness was enough for Leonardo to find his words somewhat comforting.  Still, he couldn't help himself and quickly asked,  "You heard me, Zio? But if you did then surely father and Nonno Antonio..."

The man waved his words away.  "Your father works at his desk, just like your uncle.  As I said, your secret is safe with me."  Leonardo couldn't help his relief despite the fact that the way his uncle spoke unnerved and confused him.  His anxiety grew when the man then said, "But, Leonardo, what we--your father and nonno and I--what we spoke of tonight is of great importance.  Do you understand?"  

The boy quickly nodded.  Francesco retrieved a pencil from his belt, one that Leonardo immediately recognized was his.  "And I found this on the floor. God knows whose pencil this is."  The corner of Francesco's lips twitched upwards.

Leonardo looked between his uncle and the pencil and dipped his head in shame.  "Am I in trouble?" 

"That depends, _nipote_.  Let's see what you've been writing."

Silence stretched between them as Francesco leafed through the notebook Leonardo retrieved for him.  The boy stared at the flame from the candle he held for his uncle, reflecting on the true scope of his mistake.  Oh, was he in trouble now!  He should not have been listening--his uncle just told him what they spoke of was important!  Surely, surely, the child thought, and his eyes began to well with tears.

"You wrote this, Leonardo?" Leonardo didn't look up--nor did he notice the subtle tone of awe in his uncle's voice--when he muttered his affirmation.  Francesco was silent for a few moments longer before he spoke again, "All of this is your work, even the drawings?  Who has seen this?"

"No one but you and me, Zio, I swear." His tone was pleading and frightened.  Francesco looked up quickly when he recognized the despair in the poor child's voice.  Leonardo seemed so troubled and guilty and Francesco couldn't help his quiet laugh.  He set the notebook aside as he ushered the boy into his arms.

"My boy, you are _not_ in trouble, I swear to you! No, no, no tears. Come now--no tears."

But Leonardo couldn't help himself.  He sniffled and rubbed his eyes but to no avail and Francesco had to relieve him of the candle in his hand.  He pulled the boy into his lap and wiped away the wetness from his cheeks.  "Leonardo, you are not in trouble.  What you have in this notebook--it's art.  And what you have written tells a story."  Francesco tried to catch his gaze, playful and comforting.  "Do you know what that story is?"  

Leonardo hiccuped and shook his head.  Francesco hushed him gently.

"Let me tell it to you."

**Author's Note:**

> So this chapter was more like a prologue. This is my first time actually writing a fic with a Templar Leonardo da Vinci, something I've been meaning to do but have had my reservations. I hope I didn't mess it up too bad!
> 
> Info is from various biographies that I've read (and didn't have immediate access to so I refreshed myself with sites and wikipedia). I'm taking some liberties with history to better fit the AC storyline but I am trying to keep it as historically accurate as possible so BEAR WITH ME. That being said, this is probably not how it happened so don't take my word for it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- K


End file.
